


Reunited For Now

by violasarecool



Series: What Can 8 Grey Wardens Do? [26]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Warden at Skyhold, reunited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:26:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9422411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violasarecool/pseuds/violasarecool
Summary: ten years later, quentin surana, hero of fereldan, finally makes contact with his one of the old friends he left behind





	

**Author's Note:**

> if you havent read my previous works in this verse, quentin's the hero of fereldan; fox tabris became part of their company in da:o, and eventually left with quentin and zevran to give quentin time in anonymity to recover, and later to research the blight

It was late in the afternoon, and Leliana was halfway through a stack of papers when an agent approached her desk: Tannen, a long-standing recruit she trusted more than most in her employ.

"There's three elves waiting to see you on the west battlements," Tannen said.

"Thank you," Leliana said absently, scanning a neatly written letter—it seemed to indicate they were in for another attack on their supply caravans near Redcliffe. Unfortunate, but manageable. "I will be down shortly," she added, and Tannen bowed, and left the way she came.

A few moments later, it struck her that Tannen had picked an particularly secluded location for her waiting visitors. Three elves.

She was halfway down the first flight of stairs before she remembered to put back her quill.

* * *

Dear Leliana,

I'm sorry I haven't written until now. At first, I didn't want to be found, but after a few years, it was just simpler to just keep hiding, let the "Hero of Ferelden" pass into legend. It's nice to wander Thedas as an anonymous traveller, even if our mission isn't quite as pleasant.

Our mission being: stop the Blight. Permanently.

It's a tall order at best, I realize, but after so long spent fighting these damn Darkspawn with swords and staves, we still know so little about them. Even after dedicating years to researching them, I hardly have much more concrete information than "it is slowly killing us". That may be a slight exaggeration, but it's frustrating, and I'm coming to realize we don't have the resources for some of the information I need.

So here I am, writing to an old friend for the first time in ten years to ask for your help. I hear the Inquisition has a wide influence these days, and contacts in unexpected places—perhaps you might have more luck than we've had over the years.

In return, I'm willing to do whatever I can for the Inquisition, even if that means revealing myself once more as the "Hero". Fox and Zevran are also travelling with me, and are equally willing to lend their support (as well as Cerberus, if you're in desperate need of a face-licking).

And perhaps we'll have time to catch up? We'll be approaching Skyhold in a week or less, so you have some time to think about it before we're on your doorstep. I just hope we'll still recognize each other after these long years of wear.

I look forward to seeing you again.  
Quentin

* * *

Leliana forced herself to slow her pace as she ascended the steps to the battlements. Her hurried pace had already attracted some small attention, and besides, they would still be there if she took a few moments longer. Still, she was relieved when the ramparts opened up before her, and she pushed through the wooden door, quickly crossing the interior to the other side.

She opened the far door back into the bright sunlight, three figures standing not feet away. Before she had time to make her presence known, however, there was a bark, and seconds later, Cerberus was jumping up at her, tongue lolling, eyes bright. "Hello, boy," she murmured, patting his head fondly as he nosed up against her with a happy whine.

Behind him, the closest figure had turned now, his white hair reflecting the afternoon sun with almost painful intensity. His eyes landed on hers, and they widened, mouth slightly open. His face was thinner than it had been, all angles and lines deepening across tired skin, framed by long hair pulled back into a loose braid. "Leliana," Quentin said, his expression softening, and he stepped towards her as Leliana did the same, pulling him into a hug.

"Maker, it has been far too long," she said, attempting a stern tone, but her voice wavered, and she was sure she only sounded as relieved as she felt.

Quentin buried his face in her shoulder with a muffled laugh. "I know."

Leliana pulled back to look at him again, eyes sweeping his face, his dirty brown travelling clothes. "You were right about my hardly recognizing you. You look so different, so much older."

"You too," Quentin said; her face had become thinner, brow marked with many frowns, her blue eyes duller than when they used to sit chattering around the campfire.

Although, when she glanced at Zevran a moment later, some of that old spark reappeared with a smirk. "He's starting to look like an aging librarian, don't you think?"

"Mm, perhaps, although I would have said he ressembles an elderly enchanter," Zevran said, flicking at Quentin's long braid.

Quentin smiled and shook his head. "Maybe," Leliana agreed. "Honestly, none of you look like you've had haircuts in years," she said, moving to hug Zevran, then Fox.

"That's probably because it's true," Fox said, grinning. He reached up and flicked at the twists of dark ginger hair that settled around his shoulders. "Zevran chopped mine with one of his daggers a few times, though," he added, eyes sparkling as Leliana shook her head.

"If you are going to be staying here as my guests, we will simply have to change that," Leliana said firmly, and Quentin gave her a fond smile.

"Anything for our gracious host," Quentin said.

They were silent for a few moments, basking as much in the warm sun as in each others' presence, the wind gently brushing at their coats and hair. Leliana glanced across the courtyard below on instinct, scanning the lively bustle of people, before her gaze came back to rest on the three tired friends before her. "I'm sorry," she said, "you must be exhausted, you've been travelling for a long time."

Quentin lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "It's nothing we're not used to."

"Of course," Leliana said, falling into a more professionally detached tone out of habit. "Regardless, you asked about information—we do have an extensive library, which Dorian can show you around later, and I have set aside a few books in your quarters as well as several missives that I think may be of interest to you."

Quentin nodded. "Thanks, Leliana."

"However, before I show you anything else..." A small smile creapt onto her face. "I think there is someone you may want to see."

* * *

They followed Leliana across the high stone walls, hundreds of people interspersed below them, tiny figures milling about, or hurrying across the grounds. As they passed into the tower, the noise only grew, echoing around the enclosed space. "I usually work on the highest level," she said, nodding at the elf who stood in the middle of the dully lit room. "And the library is on the second floor."

But Quentin was hardly paying attention.

As they passed a large hall, and finally stepped back into the fresh air, Leliana slowed. "She's over there," she said, pointing at a small stone pavillion, just visible through the leaves.

Quentin glanced back at Fox and Zevran. "We'll give you a minute," Fox said, and Quentin nodded.

He stepped out into the garden, heart thudding in his chest. Behind him, he faintly heard Cerberus whine, and Leliana's murmured "stay here, boy", but then he was out and around the bushy leaves, and all the chatter in the garden seemed to fall away. There was a figure sitting on the steps of the pavillion beside a child, head bent over a book, exchanging quiet words. As Quentin approached, the child looked up, and a moment later, the other raised her head to follow their gaze.

Quentin raised a hand, a nervous half-smile on his face, and Morrigan stood up, book falling to the ground.

"Hi," Quentin said, stopping a few feet away.

"Quentin," Morrigan said, surprise etched onto her face, edges worn gentle like rocks tumbled smooth in a churning ocean. "I was not expecting to see you here."

"I didn't know you were here," Quentin said simply.

Morrigan's gaze moved slightly behind him, to where he assumed Leliana was waiting with the others. "I see," she said, and she glanced back at him with a wry smile. "Our spymaster thinks herself beyond rebuke."

"Hah," Quentin said, the sound somewhat forced. He chewed on his lip as he stared at Morrigan anxiously, trying to keep his swirling thoughts from messily spilling out. "I'm sorry, I know you said you didn't want anyone to follow you—"

"That was before," Morrigan said, cutting him off, "that time has passed. It is good to see you again, my friend," she said, smiling, and Quentin relaxed into a smile.

"It's good to see you too," Quentin said.

Morrigan's expression changed, and she looked down; Quentin followed her gaze down to see the child Morrigan had been talking to before, one hand on Morrigan's skirt. She crouched down beside him, and he whispered something in her ear. She smiled at the child, though the look she gave Quentin seconds later seemed almost wary. "There is someone who would like to meet you," she said, standing, and the child stood up beside her, looking at Quentin curiously. "Kieran, this is my good friend Quentin Surana. We knew each other a long time ago, during the Blight. Quentin, this is my son, Kieran."

Quentin stared at Kieran, pulse quickening, then up at Morrigan. "Your son," he said dumbly. Kieran came about up to Morrigan's shoulders; he looked to be almost ten years old.

Morrigan glanced down at Kieran. "I think it's about time you got back to your studies now, little man. If you're good, and Quentin doesn't mind, you may talk to him later."

"Yes, mother," Kieran said, his attention still on Quentin.

"What do you say?"

"It was nice to meet you," Kieran said, and Morrigan nodded.

"Off you go, then," she said, scooping up the fallen book and handing it to him, and he left at a half-run. Morrigan smiled fondly. "He is too clever for his own good," she said, looking at Quentin; he said nothing, head full of thoughts he couldn't begin to articulate. "I have not told him who his father is," Morrigan added, "I was not sure you would want him to know. But he may figure it out for himself before long."

"Right," Quentin said. _My child,_ he thought, stunned. _Well, not my child, Morrigan's._ She had made that very clear, and Quentin had no objections; he had only helped Morrigan achieve what she wanted, and besides, he was in no position to be raising a child.

But. A child, a living breathing child, an intelligent child who wanted to know who made him, and was perfectly capable of figuring that out all by himself. The thought stabbed him with anxiety. _I'm not sure if I want him to know, either._

He glanced up at Morrigan, realizing he had been quiet for a long moment, but her attention was turned back toward where Leliana, Fox, and Zevran stood. As he watched, Zevran grinned and gave her a quick wave of one hand. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation later," Morrigan said, "Your friends are starting to look impatient."

"Our friends," Quentin corrected her.

She gave him an unreadable look that disappeared into a quick nod a moment later. "Shall we?" She gestured to the dirt path trodden out of the garden, and they began walking back.

They took slow, measured steps, neither in a particular hurry. As they neared the others, Quentin glanced at Morrigan, feet slowing. "Are you happy?" he asked abruptly.

Morrigan gave him a curious look. "You know, I believe that I am. Are you?"

Quentin watched Zevran and Fox chattering like gleeful squirrels with Leliana. Fox caught Quentin's eye, and raised his eyebrows, mouth pressed tight in amusement. Quentin smiled. "Yeah, I am."


End file.
